The long windows were open to the night air. He floated gently down and stood on the shaven grass of the lawn. He decided to watch Alice first. He did not want to startle her by approaching her. He moved quietly up the terrace steps and eased himself through the windows, standing partly concealed by the curtain.

At first he did not recognize her—and then all at once she was almost in front of him. She looked happy and animated although the Duke, putting up his quizzing glass, could not quite believe the fussiness of her dress or the clumsiness of her hairstyle. Alice was dancing with a fresh-faced young man in an ill-fitting suit. They were waltzing and he seemed to be dancing on her toes most of the time, but he looked easy and amiable. The Duke thought this must be Lord Harold Webb. Well, he was not the most elegant of creatures but he looked a good-hearted soul. He would do very well.

The Duke was torn between leaving immediately now that he had found Alice in good spirits, or staying to give her a lecture on the dowdiness of her dress.

It was then he noticed the shadows under her eyes and that her eyes themselves were suspiciously puffy.

He stayed, his bright blue gaze fixed on her every movement. The waltz finished at last and Alice began to promenade with her partner as was the custom. Suddenly, a tall, very handsome man with a rather pompous face came up to Alice accompanied by Miss Snapper. Miss Snapper seemed to say a few short sharp words at which Alice flushed miserably and stared at the floor. Her unresisting hand was taken from her partner’s arm and placed by Miss Snapper firmly on that of the handsome young man who led Alice off to the side of the ballroom, talking fiercely in an undertone and, to the Duke’s horror, he caught the glint of tears in Alice’s eyes.

It was time to make his appearance. He sauntered across the ballroom floor in Miss Snapper’s direction, examining the companion as if for the first time and not liking what he saw.

Her gown, he noticed, was extremely rich and around her scrawny neck was a ruby necklace which he recognized as having belonged to his late wife.

“Monsieur Le Comte!” gasped Miss Snapper as the Duke appeared before her. “We had not heard… did not expect you…”

Her thin hand flew to the necklace at her throat.

“Where is this Lord Harold Webb?” said the Duke sternly.

“Ah, he is flirting with Alice and us old things should not intrude,” said Miss Snapper, flirting horribly with her fan.

“Madam,” said the Duke awfully, “I am not yet in my dotage although you may be. I find your personal remarks offensive in the extreme. You forget yourself. Pray, present me to my niece this instant.”